Appearing in a mirage, I wandered the Arizona desert for forty years, always alone, always lost. The heat takes its toll on verbs, not adjectives. There are not two ways to approach dehydration; only one, the one with symbols. Petroglyphs in rock show the way to live without presumptuous glory.
Then, tired of the blistering sands, turning to my later years I longed for the sea. The green currents called. So leaving the Gila mirage-maker behind wound my way to Massachusetts, to watch the sea examine what it created, and to die.
This is true:
In a state of meditation
(Straight)
I left both mind and body behind
...
Someday there will be all-fire,
Fire enveloping everything;
And also someday there
Will be a consuming chill,
...
After a 100-day drought
Wringing the patience from everybody's pores,
The rain finally enshrouded the concrete city;
Strange hungry plants invaded odd corners,
...
Wilson, Wickford and Dunne
Were gunslingers and lawmen
With a remarkable thing in common:
They all had half-brothers they needed to kill.
...